


How Not to Train Your Wimpod

by Abupbup



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Gen, Guzma's Pokemon are cute jerks, Plumeria doesn't help, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 12:03:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8750047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abupbup/pseuds/Abupbup
Summary: A thrown-together fill for a cute Tumblr prompt I came across.Guzma has anger issues and tries to take it out by being not-so-nice to the new Wimpod he's training. His Golisopod is having none of that.





	

“Wimpod, use Scald already! Smash that target!”

Guzma was on the edge of his already permanently frayed rope. That self-righteous little trainer had thrashed him again this morning. He’d been so frustrated that even breaking three chairs and a window hadn’t been enough to cool him down. He’d thought maybe he could get into the zone again by training one of Team Skull’s new Wimpods, but he was failing at even that.

The Wimpod was currently frozen and trembling before the large stuffed Fearow figure in the middle of Guzma’s room. The figure was a gift from his Grunts; handmade just for their awesome boss to train his awesome bug Pokémon with. And yet here it was, completely undamaged, because he couldn’t even get this Wimpod to take a step forward.

Guzma scrubbed a hand through his white hair and clenched his jaw, swallowing down a feeling of inadequacy. "Tch, it’s not even a real Fearow. How can you be part of the Big Bad Guzma’s crew if you can’t even fight a toy?”

Wimpod made a dejected sound and scurried back, its antennae drooping. Guzma’s Golisopod looked up from the berry it was scarfing nearby to whirr disapprovingly at its master again. Usually Guzma had so much more patience with his Pokémon, but he couldn’t think past his frustration right now.

“I already told you to stay outta this,” Guzma snapped at his ace Pokémon. “How’s it ever gonna get strong like you if I’m too soft on it?”

Ignoring Golisopod’s irritated clicks, Guzma turned back to the Wimpod and let all over six feet of him loom over the wide-eyed little bug. “You gotta learn how to beat others down or they beat you down, get it?” He gestured wildly with his arms, his voice getting louder with every word. “That means stop wimping out and start acting like destruction in Pokémon for—“

Golisopod was suddenly behind Guzma, a large, clawed mitt catching his arm and pulling him backwards until he fell on his butt with a grunt. He cursed as the Pokémon caught his other arm too, easily pinning it to the floor above his head. How did a giant armored samurai bug manage to get the jump on him?

“The hell do you think you’re playing at!?” Guzma growled, struggling to pull his arms from the strong hold. “Lemme go!” 

Golisopod made no move to release him, and instead started purring and clicking at the sulking Wimpod. Guzma had no clue what the heck he was saying, but whatever it was had the Wimpod perking up curiously. The little bug was still for a moment, then cautiously scurried over at Golisopod’s insistence. It hesitated next to Guzma’s leg, but eventually wiggled its way up onto his hip and stared into his face.

“Oh, so now you’re fronting like a tough guy, huh? Getting all up in my grill?” Guzma mocked. Wimpod paused again and looked to Golisopod with a questioning purr. When the bigger bug nodded, it gave a determined hiss and promptly wiggled its way under Guzma’s baggy t-shirt.

Guzma squirmed and frowned at the lump in his shirt. What was this little punk trying to do anywa—no no no NO! He gasped and bucked as little legs purposefully scuttled along his belly, the sensation horribly ticklish. He gritted his teeth against the embarrassing noise that threatened to escape him, lips turning up into an unwilling smile.

“Get out!” He yelped. He kicked his legs, but his muscles were already going to jelly from the feeling crawling up his stomach. Wimpod’s little legs skittered gently along one of his sides too, and that was all it took. Guzma broke down into wild, raspy laughter, wiggling on the floor like a kid. He pulled desperately at his arms, but Golisopod’s grip held strong.

“Stopstopstop!” He nearly shrieked. “I-I’m your master! You g-gotta listEN to me!”

Golisopod’s only answer was a staccato whirr that sounded almost like a laugh. Wimpod hissed happily and started focusing on his ribs, poking curiously at the spaces between the bones. The Big Bad Guzma definitely did not squeal at that and try to curl in on himself.

“I s-swear I’ll put you both up…up against a bird Pokémon!” Guzma threatened, breathless and unintimidating from peals of laughter. “An electric one, y-you shits!”

Golisopod made no move to let him go and Wimpod’s legs and antennae continued their torturous journey under his shirt. It seemed to be figuring out which spots made Guzma thrash the most and was staying on them. Guzma tossed his head from side to side, his shades flying off during a fit of what he’d never admit were giggles.

He was about to give in and beg his Pokémon when a deep feminine chuckle echoed through the room. Golisopod gave a greeting click and Guzma looked through tear-filled eyes at the doorway. Plumeria was leaning against it, a manicured brow arched and a small smile on her lips. Of course she came to check on all of the noise—right when it was the most embarrassing.

“You good there, boss?” the Team Skull Admin asked. Guzma could just hear the smirk in her voice, damn her. But he wasn’t in a position to turn her away.

“Plum! C’mon, h-help your boy oUT-!” His plea ended in a yelp and a jerk as a little leg wiggled along a particularly bad spot just under his ribs.

“I could help,” Plumeria drawled, casually inspecting her nails. “But what’ll you give me if I do?”

Guzma was really starting to regret starting a team of greedy misfits. “A g-good, solid kick in th—“

His threat was cut off as two of Wimpod’s legs skittered under his arm. Guzma gasped and collapsed into near-silent laughter, his legs drumming uselessly on the floor.  
Plumeria was all out grinning now, sashaying closer to the mush on the ground that was her boss. “Reconsidering now, huh? Tell you what, I’ll get them to stop if you buy me Malasada. The sweet ones,” she demanded. “And I get to sit in your chair whenever I want for a week.”

Guzma had never nodded so fast in his life. He’d get her back for this later, but right now she was his only hope. Plumeria hummed, clearly proud of her victory, and patted Golisopod’s closest arm.

“Alright, alright, don’t kill him,” she joked. “We still need this numskull to lead the team.” Golisopod purred happily at her and finally released Guzma’s wrists. Wimpod got the memo too, wriggling backwards and out of Guzma’s shirt. Still snickering, Guzma curled his arms around his waist and rolled onto his side to catch his breath.

When he finally sat up, hair hopelessly mussed and cheeks still flushed red, Golisopod was across the room and happily accepting a Poké Bean from an equally traitorous Plumeria (who was already chilling in his chair). Wimpod, however, was sitting right next to him, looking ridiculously proud of itself. Any fear seemed to have flown entirely out of the window, even with the Fearow figure still nearby.

Guzma thought he should probably be angry again, but he was feeling bizarrely relaxed after all of that laughing. Besides, Wimpod did stand up for itself like he’d wanted. He put his large hand over the bug’s entire face and shoved it playfully.

“Yeah, yeah, you won. Now stop giving me that smug ass look,” he grumbled, failing to fight a smile. “And you ain’t keeping ‘Tickle’ as one of your moves. That’s not hardcore enough for Team Skull, got it?”

The little Pokémon wiggled out from under Guzma’s hand and chirped defiantly; the closest a Wimpod could get to a true Team Skull ‘no!’


End file.
